Always Yes
by ivorykeys09
Summary: Dan/Blair. Future-Fic. My take on their wedding night. Complete.


**A/N:** This isn't AU, but more a future-fic. Not related to any current storylines.

Endless thanks goes to Spiros & Sarabrowncolorado.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gossip Girl or any of its characters.

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On the way up to their room, they stand on opposite sides of the elevator. They are mimicking positions—hands behind their back, holding their weight against the wall. Their gaze doesn't waver from one another. With each floor they climb, the reality of what just happened continues sinking in. Blair bites her bottom lip, looking strangely shy for once, and Dan can't help but push himself off the wall to get closer to her in her white dress. He reaches her once the elevator _dings_ and much to his annoyance, can't kiss her before the doors open.

"Oh!" She gasps, as he swoops her off her feet in one swift movement. He presses a kiss to her neck and walks into the suite.

Minutes later, Dan opens the bottle of pink champagne with a _pop_ and Blair quickly places her glass underneath before it spills. He lifts his glass.

"To us," he says simply.

"To us," she repeats, and then clinks her glass against his.

Once the bubbles go to their heads, they walk around and get acquainted with the room. Blair is immediately drawn to a table covered with flowers. Before she can bury her nose in their smell, her eyes catch a small box. She bites back a horrified gasp when she sees what's inside. Serena and Nave have sent handcuffs as a joke.

Wonderful.

She wrinkles her nose, and places them down in disgust.

There is a bouquet from each of their parents, and she finds herself getting teary as she reads the corresponding cards. She hears (and feels) Dan walk up behind her, and she holds up the cards for him to see. Once he's finished reading, he plucks a rose from Cyrus's bouquet and turns Blair around. Softly, he tucks one above her ear. The pink hue brings out the rosiness of her kissable lips and so he does just that. Kisses her.

She gives a small whine in protest when he disappears for a moment, but when he is back, she hears a familiar song play through the speakers. He has put on their wedding song; the first one they danced to as husband and wife. She kisses him in gratitude for the reprise of the moment—this time infinitely more private like it deserved to be. The second "The Book of Love" sounds through the room, Blair curls her arms around his neck and lays her head against his chest. They sway together for the hundredth time that night, but this time in the presence of only themselves.

When the song is over, she pulls herself up so that her legs and dress are wrapped around him. His hands trail down from her back to her waist, holding her more tightly, and he slowly walks them into the bedroom without tearing his mouth from hers.

He carries her to the bed and lowers her down carefully. Pulling himself away, he stands and tugs on her hands to bring her to a seating position.

"I have a surprise," he says.

She gasps, pulling on his tie to reel him closer. "Really?" He's standing between her knees now, cradling her head in his hands. She smiles up at him and notices that his tie is loosened around his neck. She smirks; he hates ties. "Show me."

He pulls off the tie completely now, and before she can protest, wraps it around her eyes. Once it's tied, he crouches down to her level. "No peeking." He kisses her pout and walks away to get her present. A moment later he is back. "Okay."

She squeals when she sees what it is. Dan is standing proudly next to the bag of wedding gifts he has stolen from the reception. The ones they had grumpily decided to wait until after the honeymoon to open. It certainly wasn't all of them, but enough to get her heart racing with excitement.

"_Oh_ I just love you!" she exclaims.

She slides to the floor next to the presents, white dress pooling around her legs.

He hands, she opens. Gone is prim and proper Blair. The one who _carefully_ opens up gifts—who tugs softly on the bow or neatly unfolds the taped edges. Tonight she hurriedly tears open the packages, _ooh-ing_ and _aah-ing_ over every one. Dan's fine with just writing down what the gifts are and who they're from. He's happy to just sit there and watch her.

And besides, he's better with a pen and paper.

She comes up with something to do with each gift—a story for each one.

The porcelain platter is for when they host Thanksgiving. For the sliced turkey, she decides.

The monogrammed hand towels are for the power room. But only near Fourth of July, because they are navy and white.

The matted picture frame will display their wedding invitation. They'll hang it in the entryway so that it's the first thing people see—and that _they_ see when they walk in the door each night. They'll be reminded about how amazing this night was.

She reaches the bottom of the pile and this time, for some reason, she slowly opens the gift. As if she already knows how different this one is.

It's a worn journal of sorts, and tears are already spilling over as she reads the first page.

_Yes. Always yes._

For the next hour, she reads their relationship page by page. Movie stubs, airplane tickets, restaurant receipts, photobooth strips. Scraps of paper with Scrabble scores, fortune cookie fortunes, maps, notes she left on his pillow, notes he left on hers.

His jacket is draped around her shoulder now. She looks like an old photograph: the black suit against her white dress. The white dress that wraps and curves around her body like it always meant to be there.

When she's done the last page—read and reminisced every single memory—Dan takes her hand and brings her to the bed. He sits on the edge as Blair stands in front of him, sliding his jacket off her shoulders. She unzips her dress and lets it fall to the ground, until she's standing in heels and lace panties. His tie is already off, so his shirt is next, and then he stands to shrug off his pants and briefs.

They stand there for a minute, just looking each other over, until they meet and move on the bed, kicking off their shoes. Their arms are wrapped around each other; their faces inches apart.

"Husband," she whispers.

"Wife," he whispers back.

They reflect smiles.

"_Husband,_" she whispers, fingers grasping his shoulders, tugging him closer.

"_Wife,_" he whispers back, hand curling around her waist, bringing her closer.

She can feel his breath now, that's how close they are. Warm air against her skin. She rests her forehead to his, touches her nose to his.

"Husband," she whispers, just barely.

"Wife," he whispers back.

And they lie there until he softly presses his lips to hers, and begins moving down her body.

This…this is different from all the other times. Dan smiles against her breast as he realizes how opposite it is of the day before.

_Blair had insisted on spending the night away from each other—a tradition she made clear she wanted to follow through with. But as the day went on, the more handsy she got. Her fingers were always threaded through his. Her seat was always on his lap. She straightened his collar no less than ten times. By the time they got to the rehearsal at the Church, she was outright fidgety. She stood still for the practice of the vows, eyes boring into his for those few minutes. Once they were done, Serena gathered up the few people in the wedding to go over the schedule for the next day. _

_Finally...everyone's attention was off of them for the first time all day. Dan stepped down from the alter area and tugged Blair to follow. _

_They were barely through the doors into the entry space before he had her up against the wall; she sighed into his mouth, relieved that she was finally doing this. Raking her fingers through his curls, she melded her mouth against his and slipped her tongue through his lips. They stood there and made out like teenagers for what seemed like hours. It was thrilling and excitingly naughty to be doing that in a church, with their gasps and moans echoing off the walls. It wasn't until Serena cleared her throat did they finally pull away from one another. _

_Throughout the whole rehearsal dinner, Blair continued to stay at his side every moment. She held his hand tightly through the toasts and while they made their own thank-you speech. After saying goodbye to everyone in excited spirits for the following day, Dan pulled her off to the side. Nate and Serena had been eyeing them from the entrance, ready to steer them off to their respective locations for the night. In their quiet solitude—their last moment together as separate entities—they just simply smiled at each other._

"_Tomorrow," was all he said. And after a kiss full of passion and promise and love, they said goodbye._

Now…tomorrow is here. And slowly and precisely—so they remember everything—they move closer together. His tongue on her collarbone. Her lips on his jaw. His teeth scraping her stomach. Her breath on his shoulder. They know each other so well at this point, their movements are synchronized. They touch and taste every part of each other's bodies, building up their desire to a degree they'd never felt before. Finally, until they're burning with need, Dan enters her and they both sigh in contentment; relief; unity.

They move in and out of each other, deliberately and harmoniously all night. Over and over and over again they send each other over the edge, clutching each other's backs and gasping each other's names. The words _I love you_ are whispered endlessly like a prayer, and they each decide they'll never get tired of hearing it.

Once their breaths are normal, they roll onto their sides, facing one another. Small pants cover against each other's faces. With their noses touching, there's no escaping it.

She whispers:

_"...and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes_

_and then he asked me would I say yes..._

_and first I put my arms around him yes_

_and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes—"_

He cuts in:

"_and his heart was going like mad," _

She finishes:

"_and yes I said yes I will Yes."_

And then he kisses her.

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End.

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><p><strong>AN:** I would love to hear your thoughts!

_**Final quote is by James Joyce. "The Book of Love" is by Peter Gabriel. It's the most romantic song. _


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